


Blush

by thacmis



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Japanese Keith (Voltron), Jealous Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith in make up, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), This is super light stuff don't worry, there is NO cheating from either lance or keith just being upfront i don't like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-06-09 07:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15262116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thacmis/pseuds/thacmis
Summary: Lance walked into Victoria's Secret, hoping to buy this list of lingerie that Nyma wanted. Things seemed to be a bit cool between them recently, but Lance hoped it was just a phase that might be fixed with some gifts and a little extra passion.Keith worked at Victoria's Secret, where he could indulge in his little hobby with make up without judgment, and where he could avoid his dumb crush in peace, because why would Lance ever walk into a Victoria's Secret?Cue pining, a sad revelation, some jealousy, a happy revelation, and a good ending for the boys.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. I typed this all out at night at 2am
> 
> I rarely ever write fanfic, because I'm mostly an artist, but sometimes I do write for certain ships that really, really get me going. Like klance. So here it is! Hope you enjoy

Lance hummed as he pulled open the swinging glass doors, hand in his hoodie, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, like this was something he did every day.

This was not something he did every day.

He was walking into the biggest Victoria's Secret store that existed downtown, alone, and it wasn't even any gift-giving season. In his left hand he clutched a piece of paper scribbled with a list of the names of lingerie and panties that Nyma had shoved into his hand with those big doe eyes of hers, and he'd jumped at the chance to do this for her.

Recently, Nyma seemed to be… a little more distant than usual, and it was going on longer than could be written off as a passing mood. He still loved her has much as he had when she'd first asked him out, but he was getting a little worried, and -

Well, this was not the time or place to be thinking about this. He was here to _fix_ it.

The smell of rose perfume hit all five of his senses and then some. It was early on a week day, so there was practically no customers around, aside from a few wandering around, looking more like cryptids than humans. He needed to find a customer service rep; as interested as he was in lingerie, and he already felt a little warm imagining a few of them clinging onto the lush body of Nyma, that interest did not extend to learning how to _buy_ or find them.

A couple of the customer reps, dressed red tops and black skinny pants, already seemed preoccupied with other customers. He could wait, he supposed, but he decided to stroll around the three-storied store in the hop[es of coming across a free rep.

He had to admit, as he walked around, that there was something about the presentation of the clothing in this store that made him want to try on some of them himself. Lance thought he honestly wouldn't look that bad. He might have stared a little too long at a lacy, baby-blue push-up bra, and got weird looks from a girl that hurried past.

He coughed and continued to walk, trying as hard as he could to look disinterested as he passed display after display, hands shoved tightly in his pockets.

A lone customer rep folding panties in the corner came into view as he walked into the next room. They had on the signature red top and thin black pants, a radio strapped to the belt. Lance couldn't see their face, which was obscured covered by a cascade of black waves that ended at the shoulders. Their back was turned, and something about that figure was weirdly familiar, but Lance was way too relieved to dwell on it.

"Hey, uh, excuse me…" Lance began, tapping lightly on their shoulder.

They turned, and the world stopped.

Standing in front of him was the most gorgeous, most beautiful  man in the world. His eyes were lined on the top with flawless black, double wings in the corners. Enormous false lashes fluttered as the man blinked at him, bringing out the soft grey of his irises. Pink and glittery blush brought out the killer cheek bones that cut something pretty out of the pale, smooth skin. Glossy pink lips parted, and the world started again.

" _Lance_?!" Keith whisper-shrieked, eyes growing comically wide. "What are you doing here!?"

Lance blinked, trying to process the rash, crude boy that was Keith as this ethereal being in front of him.

"I, um. Wow. Keith? Is that really you?"

Keith stared at him, flushed and looking murderously beautiful, and Lance didn't really know how to deal with the confusion swirling like a maelstrom in his head right now. "I - I work here."

"Um, yeah, that's why I came to you for a question? Damn, does anybody else know -"

Before Lance could get another word out, Keith looked around quickly and shoved Lance against the wall with a manicured, pink-nailed hand. The nails were long and obviously fake, but matched the surprisingly delicate hand very well. Lance stared at it.

"You are not telling _anybody_ , you understand? _Nobody_ , or I will personally come to skin you."

Lance swallowed. "Kinky."

Keith's glare deepened. It almost - _almost_ , but still not quite - ruined the effect of the makeup. He was so close to Lance that Lance could smell faint, musky cologne. "Lance," he hissed. The tips of his ears and the skin on his neck were flushed cherry red.

Lance's hands shot up and tried to look as placating as possible. "All right, yes, I swear, Keith. I'm telling nobody. Not a soul. Promise."

Keith glared at him for another second, and then exhaled heavily through his nostrils. He removed his hand from Lance's chest, stepping back. The spot felt cold.

Rubbing absent-mindedly at his chest, Lance took another good look at Keith. "But I mean, you actually look really good, man."

His sincerity must have shown more honestly than he'd intended, because Keith stopped and blinked at him, glare vanishing, and those fluttering black lashes sent something fluttering in Lance's own stomach. Keith looked mildly shocked, face slack for a second, before his eyes darted away, suddenly shy.  Keith cleared his throat. "Oh. Thanks."

"Yeah, dude. Do you, uh, do it yourself? Is this like a Victoria's Secret thing, or…?"

Keith rubbed at his neck. The long tufts of the mullet that normally stuck wildly around his neck seemed to have been deliberately gelled and curled into soft waves. Lance wanted to run this fingers through it, see if it was as soft as it looked.

Wait, what?

This was Keith, his classmate, his old rival, his mutual friends' friend he had only just recently began getting to know better. This was a _dude_ , and while Lance's bisexuality was no secret, he leaned much more towards girls, and this was a dude that had gotten under his skin for the longest time.

"…a position," Keith was saying. Then he frowned slightly when Lance didn't answer, pink lips in a delicate pout. "Are you listening to me?"

"Sorry, sorry," Lance said. "Damn, dude, your makeup's more on point than any of the girls I know. Sorry, what were you saying again?"

Keith sighed, a little exasperated, but Lance was pleased to note the hint of red on his ears. "I was saying, Allura caught me playing with makeup when she was at Shiro's, and I needed a job at the time, so she offered me a position here."

"Oh, cool, cool," Lance nodded. "Allura works here?"

"Yeah, she owns this store."

"Wow. Well, that's lucky. Yeah, you really look great. Really, uh, great."

Lance wanted to smack himself, and tried to fight down a blush. He sounded like a broken record.

This time, Keith really smiled, and the effect was completely enchanting. Keith _\- Keith_ , the crude boy with a foul mouth and a temper that could light fireworks - looked soft as his eyes crinkled a little at the corners, the tips of his ears quite red now. It was all Lance could do not to drop his jaw on the floor.

"Thanks, Lance." Keith looked suddenly shy. "You don't… find this gross, or anything?" he asked quietly.

Lance made a face. "What?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. "Why would I find this gross? It looks amazing on you. You really think that badly of me?"

Grey eyes snap up to his, full of dismay. "What? No! I just-"

Now Lance felt bad. He chuckled quietly and Keith paused, looking confused. "Dude, I understand. No, I don't find this gross. You're doing great, seriously, keep doing it."

"Um," Keith began. Lance couldn't tell anymore if that blush was natural or cosmetic. Or it could be both. Either way, the effect was disarming. Lance never thought he'd see the emo, broody, silently violent top student _blushing_ and shy like this. "I. Yeah. Thanks." He smiled.

Lance cleared his throat. "Yeah."

There was a small awkward pause, but Keith opened his mouth again, and was still smiling slightly as he asked, "So, you said you had a question?"

"Oh. Yeah," Lance remembered. He dug around his pocket and pulled out the list for Keith. "I need to buy these for my girlfriend, but I don't know how to find any of these. I don't exactly shop lingerie for fun - uh, Keith?"

Keith had been reaching out to take the list when he had suddenly frozen.

"Keith…?" Lance repeated.

Keith snapped out of whatever it had been, and took the list from him. "Sorry, yeah. I can find these for you." He looked at Lance for a second with an inexplicable expression, and then shrugged towards the next room. His movements seemed strangely rigid.

"Dude, are you ok?" Lance called as he tried to catch up.

Keith didn't answer as he began to rummage around, but it could just have been that Keith didn't hear him, Lance thought.

\---

Lance was the _last person_ Keith ever wanted to see while he worked at Victoria's Secret, and also the last person he wanted to be seen by while he worked there. That was why working here had been so appealing at first, because this probably wasn't a place he'd bump into Lance, like, ever.

No one ever said the universe didn't stomp on your wishes and dreams for fun.

The man was as oblivious as a cucumber, and it was frustrating, stupid, and Keith wanted to bash his head against the wall.

Lance was this bright, beautiful ball of energy that Keith's gay ass had instantly been draw towards ever since they were in the same graduate class two years ago. However, Lance never seemed as interested in being friends with him as he was interested in being his so-called rival after Dr. Iverson had personally called Keith out for being the top student in the class, and had, at the same time, implied that Lance was the worst. Keith watched as all his friends got effortlessly close to Lance, while he himself was locked out by the invisible wall that Lance had put up between them.

Fuck Iverson, seriously.

It was only about a year ago when they shared a group project together that Lance began warming up to him. The two of them got the highest mark in the class by far, and when Lance had smiled at him over celebratory beers that night, yelling "We make a good team!" in loud din of the bar, Keith thought he was finally going to make some headway on that stupid crush of his.

They only had a single class together last year, and their timetables were generally different enough that the only times they've really hung out was during house parties at Pidge and Hunk's during the winter holidays. Keith could still barely call them friends at this point. He was beginning to resign himself to watching Lance from afar.

So when Lance appeared out of thin air behind him as he worked, while Keith wore a full combination of makeup - it's a secret hobby of his that only Shiro and Allura knew about, one he only let himself really experiment with at home and at work by Allura's encouragement - Keith freaked out.

He thought he'd shot all chances of ever becoming closer to Lance.

But then Lance complimented him so sincerely, validating him so kindly, that Keith felt himself opening up to hope again, felt himself fall just a little harder for this wonderful Cuban boy.

"I need to buy these for my girlfriend," Lance had said then.

And Keith felt his insides freeze. It was like a bucket of ice water had been dunked over his head, and he couldn't breathe for a moment.

This was news.

Lance… had a girlfriend?

Who was not Keith.

A girlfriend he'd somehow never heard about from either Pidge or Hunk, who _probably did_ know about Lance's girlfriend and _also knew about Keith's stupid crush_.

As he picked through the lingerie collections, taking a little longer than usual to find the items, he found himself dangerously distracted by the painful throb in his chest. Made-up memory after made-up memory of Lance and him on imaginary dates came flooding back to him, overlaid with a sepia filter called "things that will never happen now".

He swallowed, clearing his throat before he handed a couple of the items on the list to Lance, who was humming obliviously to the turmoil in Keith's mind. "Here's the first two. There's red and blue. Does she, uh, have a preference?"

Something dreamy passed over Lance's eyes, something that felt too private for Keith to see. It was with a sharp, desperate pang in his chest that Keith wished he were the one to cause Lance to have such an expression.

"Mmm. She'd look great in either," Lance said, and Keith tried hard to dial back the scowl he felt creeping up on his face. "But," Lance continued, shaking his head slightly and looking suddenly sheepish, "she really doesn't like blue, and doesn't care about red. Do you have anything yellow or purple?"

"Um, yeah, but it's not by the brand she's written on this list."

"Oh." Lance swore under his breath. "She really wants these particular ones… do you think I can get them elsewhere?"

There was something about Lance's tone that Keith didn't like. It didn't sound so much as someone buying his lover a gift from his heart; there was some kind of shade of fear underneath it all, and Keith didn't like it one bit.

"As far as I know," said Keith, "that particular item doesn't exist in yellow or purple, anywhere. You could dye the blue one with red or something to make purple if you're desperate, but I think I'd strongly advise against that."

Lance stared at him, and Keith was just about to mildly regret whatever the hell it was he said, when Lance burst into a surprised laugh. His blue eyes were bright with mirth and Keith felt himself shake a little at how wonderful he found the twinkling sound. When it died down, he wanted to make it happen again.

"Dude, you made a joke! You actually made a joke. Emo Keith Kogane, _joking_. This is an amazing day, I'm so glad I came." A shit-eating grin broke out on his face, and the effect was blinding.

Rolling eyes and turning away to hide his blush, muttering "I'm not emo", Keith marched away to the next room to find the rest of his items. Lance scrambled to follow, tripping after him like a baby chicken to its mother.

If he took a little longer to find the rest of the items and pretend he couldn’t remember a few to stall for time until he pretended he _could_ remember -

Well, nobody had to know.

What's wrong with just wanting to be… friends with the guy you're crushing on?


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith confronts Hunk and Pidge, and Lance meets Keith again.

Keith stormed in, not feeling sorry at all for the loud bang the door made that would probably wake the neighbors.

It was ten-thirty at night, and he'd just finished his shift at Victoria's Secret, and he was exhausted and unhappy and didn't care, and the neighbors would probably complain to the supe, and Pidge and Hunk would ultimately be the ones to deal with it, but by god, they deserved it, as far as Keith was concerned right now.

"We need to remember to lock the door," Hunk said to Pidge.

She made a noncommittal noise. "I'll make something," she said absent-mindedly.

The door slammed shut behind him and he stalked over to the two of them, channeling all the "emo" he'd been told he had, or whatever it was that gave him his dark, broody reputation. He tried to loom over them as they sat on the carpet floor and tinkered with a pile of… metals and plastics and wires and cables. Junk. They looked completely unimpressed by his little temper tantrum.

Well, that was going to change very soon.

"When were you guys  _ ever  _ going to tell me that Lance has a girlfriend!?" He tried not to yell, he really did. But he was hurt, a little heartbroken, and Keith being Keith processed everything through anger.

They paused in their movements, but it took a few moments for the words to fully register.

When they did, both Pidge and Hunk snapped their faces up at Keith at the same time, eyes wide as saucers. Pidge looked a mix of confusion and aggressive misbelief, while Hunk looked dumbfounded and extremely confused.

"You… didn't know either," Keith deflated.

There was a pause.

"…No, what the  _ fuck _ ?" Pidge exclaimed, throwing down a cable she was holding. "When did you hear this? How do you know this? Are you sure?"

"Lance told me himself."

"He  _ what _ ?!" Pidge looked one tick away from murder. Keith grimaced. The genuine hurt and anger on her face mirrored his own. "He's known us since  _ grade school _ . What is this bullshit?!"

"Did he tell you who she is?" Hunk asked, eyes wide.

Keith sighed and sat down beside them, carefully nudging the weird metal things out of the way so they wouldn't stick into his ass. "Uh. Some girl named Nina? No wait. I think he said Numa? N…"

"Nyma?" Hunk tried.

"Yeah, that name."

"No fucking  _ way _ ." Pidge pretty much threw the rest of the junk she'd been holding onto the ground. Not with too much force, but the action itself spoke volumes about how shaken Pidge was. She never mistreated her tech so roughly. "That…  _ that… Nyma?!" _

Keith looked towards Hunk, and was surprised to note something that looked more like revelation than hurt spreading across his face.

"What is it, Hunk?" Keith asked. Pidge turned as well.

"Remember how he was pining after her for, like, ever?" Hunk started, look to Pidge, who grunted. Keith felt his face sour; he hadn't known exactly how unrequited his own crush was. "Remember how he couldn't stop ranting to us about her, but all we ever did was just… judge? And - "

"But she  _ is  _ a bitch," Pidge sneered, unrepentant, looking ready to murder. "The other day I -"

"Pidge." Hunk gave her a look but chose not to comment on her reaction. "And do you remember that winter dance, when he just disappeared? Nyma was there with him. Didn't they go home together?"

Keith felt his heart plummet for the second time that day.

Lance has had a girlfriend for  _ six months _ ?

"…next day," Hunk was saying, as Keith forced himself out from his own mind. "He looked really happy and I thought he'd just had a good time." Hunk sighed into his hands. "I mean, I don't like Nyma either, but we definitely weren't being good friends to him about it."

"Why… don't you guys like Nyma?" Keith asked carefully.

Pidge evidently struggled not to twist her face into the habitual sneer that appeared on instinct at the mention of Nyma, and opened her mouth, but Hunk answered. "Back in middle school, Nyma was this super popular girl, and there was this major scandal around her cheating on her boyfriend at the time. She bragged about it too, so it wasn't just rumours."

Keith's eyes bugged out of his head. "Then why the fuck is Lance dating her?"

Hunk shrugged sadly. "Yeah, well, Lance usually believes the best in people and he said Nyma could have changed since then."

"No, she's not changed at all!" Pidge suddenly yelled. "The other day I definitely saw her making out with someone  _ not  _ Lance, behind the school."

Both Hunk and Keith turned so fast they cricked their necks.

"Pidge," Hunk said slowly. "You want to explain a little more?"

She glared. "That's what I've been  _ trying  _ to do. It was a week ago. It was definitely Nyma, sucking face with… some guy. I think his name's Rolo? He was in my engineering class last year."

"Oh, Lance," Hunk said, pained.

Pidge looked ready to fight. She pulled out her phone and began typing rapidly on it.

A blur of green and yellow shot pat Keith as Hunk lunged to tackled Pidge, snatching her phone out of her hands.

"Don't. Do. Anything. Stupid," Hunk said sternly, locking the phone with a click.

Pidge looked mutinous. "Lance should have told us! We're his  _ best friends _ ! He's totally gonna get himself hurt!"

"Yes. I know. But there's a reason he hasn't told us, and we need to be careful, or we might push him farther away."

A huff, a grunt, and then Pidge was stomping away into the kitchen. She'd never admit it, but she was a downright worrywart when it came to her friends, and the only way she allowed herself to show it was through crude blunt words and anger.

A little like Keith. Or, the normal Keith, at least, because right now all Keith could do was sit and stare at the floor in shock and sadness.

Lance, Lance… beautiful, funny, charismatic and kind Lance, whom Keith had no chance with, who was dating a ticking time bomb. Lance had a pretty girlfriend who was  _ not  _ Keith. A pretty girlfriend who _ absolutely _ did not deserve a speckle of his attention. Jealousy rose like a thick, black cloud up his throat, acidic enough to choke on.

Christ. Keith was torn between panicked concern for his friend, and his own heartbreak.

"Hey," said Hunk gently, placing a large warm hand on Keith's shoulder. "You okay, man?"

"Does it matter?" Keith croaked. "Lance is gonna be…"

Hunk grimaced, and then softened his expression. "We're gonna deal with that. But I know how much you like Lance, and you're hurting over this too. Your feelings are important, you know."

"I'm…." Keith sighed, and looked at the floor, rubbing a cheek with his hand. "Thanks, Hunk. I'm just worried about him," he mumbled. "We have to tell him somehow. We  _ have  _ to."

"There's definitely no way we're keeping him in the dark," agreed Hunk. "But we need to have hard proof before we break the news to him. He knows we don't like Nyma."

"Yeah, why d'you guys tease him?" Keith asked, a little angry for Lance. "That's shitty, even for you."

Broad hands flew up in an apologetic gesture, and Hunk's face was dripping with guilt. "We just… didn't think he'd mind. Obviously, we were wrong, but he's always so cheerful, it's hard to read him sometimes."

"Even now we sometimes go too far without realizing it," Pidge admitted suddenly from behind them, apparently having calmed down and was now walking over with a cup of coffee. She sat on the floor, cross-legged, and stared down at her cup.

"So… you said Lance told you?" Hunk asked. "How did that happen…?"

Panic coursed through Keith like lightning as he blanked out for a moment, before coming up with some vague, legitimate excuse to throw them off the scent. He may trust his friends with his life, but not with… that side of his life. "Oh, I bumped into him downtown today and we sorta started talking, so… I dunno, it just came up naturally? Somehow."

Hunk nodded. "Hm. So he told you all by himself? That's good, that's good, that means you can probably bring it up again."

"Or you could just straight up say 'Nyma's cheating on you'," Pidge interjected bluntly.

"Do you even know what tact means?" Hunk exclaimed, gesturing wildly at Pidge. "You do  _ not  _ say that, like  _ that _ . God, I don't even want to - Keith? Oh no, Keith, you cannot be thinking - Keith that is  _ not a good idea -  _ "

"I'm not even doing anything!" Keith leaned away from Hunk's flailing palms. "But… Pidge's idea doesn't sound bad, actually. If it were me I'd definitely want to know as fast as possible. Like a bandaid getting ripped off."

"See! Keith agrees!"

"Lance is not like you two," Hunk reminded sternly, and that put a damper on the whole group immediately.

Contrary to belief, Lance was one of the hardest people to read, and also the hardest to gauge a reaction. And even if you  _ did _ manage to figure out a possible way he would react, you could never be sure. Lance may seem expressive and open and as transparent as a wine glass, but when it came to negative emotions, that glass turned opaque. There could be a disaster happening on the other side, but no one would know until the thing shattered, and by then, it would be far too late.

Hunk knew him best, but even he could not predict the best way to approach this situation. What could Keith do? Like Pidge, Keith wasn't known for tact. This required a lot of backup.

"I think Lance needs to know you two know," Keith said finally. "When shit hits the fan, he's going to need you guys."

Hunk nodded. "That's a good idea."

Pidge made a grab for her phone right then. "So I guess we can salt on him now?"

"Wait - no," Keith said quickly. "Not yet."

"Why not?"

Keith chewed his lips. If Keith were there when Lance found out he'd accidentally spilled the beans to his friends, then at least he could be there to deal with the fall out, and not give Lance a chance to avoid him, which Lance was often known to do after arguments. And Keith had  _ finally  _ reached that stage in their relationship where they could start calling each other friends, and he wasn't about to let that go so easily.

"I'll - I'll tell him."

Hunk looked at him for a moment, as though trying to figure him out, and then nodded. "Sounds good. That might be better, actually - if we don't push him and show that we can keep our mouths shut, he might come to us."

\---

"You  _ know  _ I have nothing that matches this colour!"

"But that brand doesn't carry -"

"Use your  _ fucking _ brain. You know I don’t like blue! Why would you buy blue?"

"Jesus Nyma it's just underwear-"

Lance had no idea how they started arguing, but by the time the screaming match was over and Lance was walking out of the door with the wrinkled garments, he'd forgotten what it was about, and who'd started it. He just knew he needed to return them, and maybe buy the right ones this time. His anger had dissipated during the drive over, and he was only left with a vague throbbing sadness. There was something wrong between him and Nyma, and he wanted to fix it, but he didn't know what it was and it didn't seem like Nyma was even aware of it herself. 

Or she was, but she didn't care?

Lance quickly ignored the thought; it was too painful to entertain.

But one thing was for sure - Nyma seemed… colder. Harder. Less easy to love and be loved by, compared to when they'd first started dating.

So Lance found himself back in front of the gaudy, lacy pink shop. He sighed.

He pushed the door open, and was hit again with a wave of flowery perfume and air-conditioning. A pretty customer rep greeted him and he returned her smile, before heading to the registers to return the garments. There were as many people as there were last time - which was to say, virtually none. He walked right up to the first register.

"Hi, uh, I'd like to return these - " he began, rummaging his pockets for the receipts.

"Mm, I guess you should have dyed them purple."

Lance snapped his head up, and was greeted once again by a most beautiful sight. This time, Keith's lips were a deep, deep red, and his eyeliner wings seemed twice as thick. His hair was gathered up into a small, tight ponytail high on the back of his head, the lose bits secured by glossy black hair clips. The blush was light and pink. Overall, he somehow managed to look sultry and adorable at the same time.

"Damn," Lance breathed. Somewhere in the back of his head where trains of thoughts were still running, he was regretting his eloquence.

Keith's neck reddened by a shade, but his expression and tone of voice didn't change. "These weren't to Nyma's liking, I guess?"

"Oh. Uh," Lance shook his head, his awe for Keith dissipating like smoke as he was reminded of his fight with Nyma. "No."

There was an awkward pause. Normally, Lance would have been filling it up with small talk and trying to be as charming as he could be, but he didn't quite feel like it at the moment. Finding the necessary receipts in his pocket, he pushed them towards Keith, who quietly looked over them before typing into his registrar.

"So," Keith cleared his throat. "I just… uh, I kind of…" he trailed off, looking nervous.

"What's up?" Lance asked.

"I, uh. Might have told Pidge and Hunk about Nyma. I didn't know they didn't know. I'm sorry," he barreled.

Lance blinked.

Keith flicked glances between the register and Lance, looking increasingly nervous as Lance failed to respond.

Finally, Lance shrugged. "I mean, they were bound to find out, so it's ok."

Two perfectly plucked eyebrows arched downwards. "You're not… angry?"

He chuckled and scratched at his head. "Nah, man. I didn't tell them because… well, not really because I didn't want them to know? They don't really like Nyma so I thought I'd hold off telling them, and then… and then it felt too late, you know what I mean? And… Nyma's not around often enough these days that them knowing would make any difference…" he trailed off.

Keith stopped typing, and turned his full attention on Lance. "Are you and Nyma…" he cleared his throat, and flushed pink as he spoke his next words. "Are you two not ok? I'm here if you need to talk about anything. We're friends, right?"

Something warm and gooey trickled through Lance's chest, his heart stuttering a little on the emotion. Keith's eyes were wide and he was chewing on his lips and he looked so nervous and hopeful that Lance, being Lance, couldn't help taking the gesture of friendship and began unloading.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a huge-ass apology for such a slow update, but never doubt that i am working on it! season 7 got us all fucked up (i'm not even talking about the shipping side, which was a Mess on every angle; it just wasn't a great season overall) and sucked up my creative voltron juices. i also went on vacation and was really busy with my art so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Next chapter starts with Keith's pov 8)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments on the last chapter, i really, really appreciate them. <3 hope you all liked this chapter as well!


	3. iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance makes a discovery.

Keith didn't know exactly how to feel. But he knew he was feeling a _lot_.

There were very few things in the world more painful than listening to one's crush agonizing over and being completely consumed by his love of someone else. Lance told him about the gradual coldness, the increasing arguments, the absences, and his many attempts to mend whatever it was that was broken, to no avail.

"I don't really know, man. I feel like… I still love her, and I _know_ it's too early to give up. It's too early to give up."

Ever since he'd begun working in retail, Keith had mastered the art of keeping a blank, but slightly sympathetic, face. It was easy not to show how much Keith wanted to shake him, to tell him she wasn't the right one for him, that the right one for him was standing right in front of him.

Keith sighed, shuffling and busying his hands with the pile of returned clothing on the counter. He gripped them a little too tightly.

"Have you tried to have a conversation about this? With her?"

"Nah…" Lance leaned on the counter. He looked drawn and sad and Keith hated Nyma for putting such unsuitable expressions on Lance's face. "Every time I try - I mean, I've only tried a couple of times - she'd just change the subject or find some way to distract me. And I kinda don't want to anymore because - well, what if she agrees? And then she breaks up with me?"

Keith worried his lips with his teeth. He needed to be tactful. "If she's the type to break up with you because you want to have an honest conversation about your relationship… isn't that a red flag?"

Lance didn't answer, simply looking at the ground.

His brown hair stuck up at all angles, but the strands were thin, so it seemed soft and downy. His silhouette looked so dejected and his hair so touchable that, without thinking, Keith reached outwards and brushed his fingertips very lightly over Lance's head.

Lance froze.

So did Keith, once he realized just what the fuck he'd done.

"Sorry, I'm - sorry!" He exclaimed, snatching his hand backwards like he'd just touched fire. He could feel his face heating up like an electric stove. No amount of foundation or make up could possibly hide how crimson he probably was at the moment.

The victim of his impulsive action simply stared with his mouth slightly open. Then he blinked, and chuckled nervously, soft pink tinging his cheeks.

"Thanks for caring, man," he said. "It's ok. I appreciate it."

Keith could only nod. His voice had fled to the seventh dimension, where Keith and his embarrassing, dumb, and frankly useless, self-control couldn't follow.

"You all right?" Lance asked quietly. There was something, soft, different about his expression when he looked at Keith this time. While there was no smile on his face, it was in his eyes, clear and blue and if Keith just pushed his imagination a little more, he could pretend that Lance was looking at him with affection.

God, his heartache, his _want_. Keith bit his lip, swallowing a whine.

Lance's eyes flicked down to his lips.

That… wasn't part of his imagination.

Keith began to lean forward, mouth open to say something - he didn't know what, he just knew it was impulse and he was probably going to say something regrettable - when Lance's phone rang.

Africa by Toto completely snapped Keith out of whatever spell he was in while Lance fumbled to open his phone.

"Hello? Oh, hey - oh, yeah, ok. I can do that. Yeah. Sure, babe. See you."

Keith felt like an idiot for catching his ear on that _babe,_ and couldn't stop himself from imagining, for a split second, being on the receiving end of that endearment. He bit his lip again.

Lance looked sheepish as he pocketed the phone. "I - uh, I have to go. Nyma called."

Keith nodded.

"Thanks for listening though," Lance said. "Sorry to take up your time for so long."

"Do you see any customers around?" Keith answered.

Lance chuckled. "Guess not. See you around, then."

Just as he turned around and took a step, a sudden impulse overtook Keith's senses, and he shot forward to take Lance's arm. Something switched off the reasonable part of his brain as he said, "Hey uh - Nyma's - I don't know, but - I think Nyma could be hiding something."

Lance stared, utterly confused and vaguely prepared to be offended as the words registered.

"What are you talking about, Keith?" he said slowly.

 _Shit shit shit._ What the fuck was he doing?! "I don't - I don't know. I don't know Nyma but I've heard some things about her - I don't know how true they are - " Keith stuttered, completely aware how horrible he sounded, planting seeds of doubt into a relationship that Lance wanted to fix so badly.

Lance didn't seem to take it too kindly either, judging from the ways his eyebrows dropped. Keith felt his heart dropping along with it. "Right. You've been talking to Hunk and Pidge."

"Maybe they're not right! But I'm just… worried." That was at least true, and Keith hoped his sincerity showed through.

Lance sighed. "Yeah, ok. Don't worry about it, don't worry about me. I'm pretty sure they're wrong. I'm… pretty sure." He gave a painful smile. "Thanks. Now, you gonna let go any time soon?"

"Huh?" Keith looked down, then did a double flip backwards as he realized he still had his grip on Lance's arm. He flushed again, but at this point, he could barely care. "Oh, shit. Sorry."

Lance smiled and waved, and made his way out of the store.

Shortly afterwards, Allura asked Keith why there were make up smudge marks on the counter, and told him he should probably get the red bruise on his forehead checked out.

***

_"Come home after five, though, ok? Not before. I won't be home till then. Ok, see you babe."_

Lance hadn't thought too much about that line when he was talking to Nyma on the phone. But now, sitting in the car, having bought the milk that she had told him on the phone to buy, Lance turned the words over in his mind and - combined with Keith's parting remarks - felt uneasy.

Nyma didn't have work today. And if she were out with her friends, she wouldn't be home until way past eleven. Five was a very strange hour, and she'd _emphasized_ it.

And why wasn't he allowed home when Nyma wasn't? It's not like she was the only one with the keys. And he'd spent plenty of time alone in the apartment without her.

It felt… odd.

_I think Nyma could be hiding something._

So Lance threw his car in reverse, and began driving home, despite it being only two in the afternoon.

It's probably nothing, he thought, he desperately tried to believe. Hunk and Pidge never liked her, and Keith, who hung out with them a lot, absorbed their bias and was only looking out for him. That had to be it. He appreciated their concern, but he was certain there was nothing.

Almost certain.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly. Yes, there was a seed of doubt in his mind. Hunk and Pidge weren't close-minded people; it's not like they had never been persuaded otherwise when it came to someone they disliked. For them to dislike Nyma for so long without wavering - a part of Lance trusted their judgment, and that was the part that was whispering the doubt. Combined with the phone call and the recent unease in their relationship, Lance thought it was justified to doubt Nyma just a little, even though doubting one's partner always felt like a shitty thing to do by itself.

God, Lance needed a nap.

 _Think of something else,_ he told himself. There was no use worrying over something he couldn't do anything about during commute. _Think of something happy._

Strangely enough, and to his slight embarrassment, Keith's face - make up and all - popped into his mind.

He thought of the light touch of Keith's fingers in his hair, of the firm, warm grip Keith had given his arm.

Lance blushed.

"Jeez," he muttered into his fist.

He was vaguely confused why he felt these… feelings when he thought about Keith. Lance honestly had no idea why he got like this when it came to Keith, but he knew that these weren't unhappy feelings. Far from it. He quite liked being around Keith, and Keith was so very pretty when he blushed and blinked whenever Lance complimented him…

His thoughts were cut short when his apartment building loomed up ahead. His heart began thudding for no reason and his palms felt sweaty as he pulled into his parking lot.

Something didn't feel right.

Slowly, he made his way to the fifth floor, taking the stairs to stall for time, wanting yet not wanting at all to find out what was in his apartment. If it were empty, then the phone call made no sense… but if it weren't…

The door was suddenly right in front of him.

"It's probably nothing at all," he muttered to himself. He inserted the key and pushed it open.

At first glance, nothing seemed out of place. The curtains were drawn, the clothes and mugs were where he and Nyma had left them that morning, and the rooms were all silent.

He closed the door quietly and hung his bag and jacket on the pegs by the closet, and that's when he noticed a strange black jacket on the hook he usually used.

It wasn't Nyma's, and it definitely wasn't his.

A guest, perhaps? But Nyma was out, and if she had a guest over while he was out, she'd usually let him know. They co-rented the place and it was one of the "rules" between them, after all.

Mind running a mile a minute, Lance turned and walked around the apartment, looking for anything else that was out of place. There were two more mugs out on the counter with half-finished coffee that he didn't remember seeing when he left this morning, a cushion on the floor, and a pink paper bag with chocolates.

And Nyma's purse. She never went anywhere without her purse.

Something cold and slimey hit the bottom of his gut and clotted his throat. Something told him not to call out Nyma's name like he normally would to gauge her presence in the apartment. Something told him to go to their bedroom.

Hands clammy and feeling like his skin was too tight and cold over his bones, Lance slowly pushed the bedroom door open.

In retrospect, Lance realized that he wasn't as surprised as he thought he'd be in such a situation. There was some subconscious part of him that expected it - not because of Nyma's promiscuous past, but because  - well, who _wouldn't_ leave him when a better option came along?

But at the moment, Lance could only stare as Nyma, his girlfriend, her beautiful sleeping face, was tucked into the neck of a vaguely familiar man, sleeping on _his_ side of the bed.

"Nyma," he croaked. Something warm slid down his cheek.

Slowly, her eyes opened. They darted around sluggishly, trying to make sense of the world again, when they landed on him in the doorway.

Comprehension dawned. She sat up violently, jolting the man awake as well. She hugged a pillow to her bare breasts, while expressions warred for dominance on her face. Guilt flashed by, but it was anger that finally settled in her cold, cold eyes.

"The fuck, Lance? Why are you back so early? I _told_ you not to come back before five!"

But Lance was already out of the apartment by the time she finished her words.

***

Keith fiddled with the new eye shadow palette he'd bought today.

It was kind of a stress-buy thing. He'd been feeling mopey - at least, more than usual - after his conversation with Lance and headed impulsively towards the nearby Sephora store to treat himself. He'd come out with a couple of new lipstick shades and a galaxy eye shadow palette that wasn't working with the foundation he had. He'd done half an eye, and it looked more like a bruise than a galaxy.

He couldn't stop thinking about Lance. About his surprisingly strong brown arms and being hugged against that broad chest and maybe marking his neck with a pink lipstick kiss…

Keith blushed growled at his reflection, and then sighed.

Maybe he'll just stick on some glitter, load up his eyelid with the biggest false lashes he had to hide that bruise-galaxy, and call it a night.

Just as he got the false lashes on, there was a knock on the door.

"Shit!" Keith cursed, eyes going wide. It couldn't be anyone other than Hunk or Pidge this late at night, and they _couldn't_ see this. He absolutely _could not_ show this to them, but they both knew he was home right now, since they were right next door and he was blasting The Killers on the radio loudly enough that they could hear through the paper thin walls. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

As stealthily as he could, he crept towards the front door and looked through the peephole.

And…

There was Lance, head down and drenched in rainwater.

Completely forgetting his appearance, Keith unlocked the door as quickly as he could and swung it open. "Lance?!"

Lance looked up.

Keith's eyes widened.

His eyes were blotchy red and swollen, and nothing but pure misery sat on Lance's face like a broken elephant. Nevertheless, the corners of his lips tried to lift upwards in the most pathetic attempt at a smile Keith had ever seen.

"Hey Keith," he croaked.

"Lance… you're… " Keith stuttered, completely shocked.

Lance shivered, and that jumpstarted Keith into action. He grabbed Lance by his jacket and pulled him inside, locked the door, and hurried to the bathroom for some fresh towels. He snatched up some clothes from his room as well before hurrying out and commanding Lance take off his clothes.

But Lance didn't take the towels or clothes form his hands. He simply looked at Keith with that horrible expression, and said, "You knew, didn't you?"

"W-what?" Keith said.

But they both knew what Lance was talking about.

Silently, Lance began to cry - probably again for the umpteenth time today, judging by how splotchy his face was. Big, fat tears rolled down his salt-tracked cheeks, while his shoulders began shaking uncontrollably. Unable to stop himself, Keith dropped the towels and clothes and darted forwards to wrap his arms around the boy as tightly as he could. To his surprise, Lance returned the gesture, and soon was sobbing his heart out into Keith's shoulder.

God, how Keith hurt for him.

He'd always wanted Lance in his arms but not like _this_. Never like this.

"Here," Keith said gently after Lance had calmed down a bit, and guided him to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey a quick update this time! Woohoo. I think there's only about one or two chapters at most to go
> 
> i've only ever worked on this fic late at night right before i go to bed, so it's unbeta'd and i apologize for any mistakes
> 
> please let me know what you think in the comments; thanks for reading!


	4. iv.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith makes a decision.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Keith asked softly, handing Lance a mug of hot chocolate. Lance took it gratefully.

"What is there to talk about?" Lance answered glumly. "Everybody knew it was going to happen except me."

Keith stared at his hands. "That's not really a bad thing. Doesn't it just mean you have a lot of trust?"

Lance snorted. "You don't have to be nice. I'm an idiot."

"If that makes you feel better."

This time Lance really did chuckle, and it didn't feel forced. He pulled the blanket that Keith had draped over him tightly around his shoulders, and smiled at his friend. "Hey. Thanks for everything, Keith."

Something soft and pink alighted in his chest. The fact that Lance had come to him, specifically, and not Hunk and Pidge, who had years more history with Lance than he had, made Keith want to dive into his bed and giggle for days. He cleared his throat. " 'S what friends do, right."

A comfortable silence settled over the two. The soft guitars and the lilting voice of Brandon Flowers wafted over the warmly lit apartment. Keith felt Lance's eyes on him, but felt too shy to look up.

"Sorry I interrupted your make-up thing, though," Lance said suddenly, with genuine feeling.

"Huh?"

"Your, uh, your make up. It's - is it- were you trying out make up before I got here?" Lance stuttered. He bit his lower lip and turned a light shade of red.

"What - oh!" Keith exclaimed, touching his face. He'd completely forgotten he'd been only halfway through and felt absolutely mortified that he'd been showing his unfinished appearance to his crush this entire goddamn time. His beard wasn't covered and he'd only done one of his eyes and he hadn't properly smoothed out the foundation on one side of his face -

"Ahhhh," he groaned, as blood rushed up through his neck and face and ears and - he was wearing a very loose, wide-necked t-shirt which was slipping down his shoulder, so his chest was visibly scarlet as well. Self-conscious, he turned away and pulled up his shirt, and covered his face with his hands. "Shit. I'm sorry you had to see this the whole time."

Lance didn't answer.

Out of morbid curiosity, Keith glanced over his hands, and was shocked to note that Lance was nearly as red as he was.

"Um," Lance said.  "W-well. I think you always look good." Then he grew even redder.

If Keith grew any hotter he'd probably burn his clothes. "Uh. Th-thanks."

"You know…" Lance cleared throat. "I don't know if you'd mind, but you could continue? Can I watch? Is that ok? I've always been kind of curious…"

Keith stared. This was such a private, personal hobby of his that the concept of someone else seeing the process made him blank out for a moment, because it had never occurred to him before.

"Sorry! You obviously don't have to! I can go right now if you want - "

That kicked Keith's brain into gear again. "What? No," he said quickly, wanting fiercely for Lance to stay a little longer. "I'm not offended, I was just surprised by your request. But… yeah, sure," he added.

Hope danced in Lance's eyes. Damn, they were blue. "Really? You don't mind?"

Keith shrugged. "I mean, you've already seen me in make up multiple times. Seeing my process won't change anything." He gestured for Lance to follow him to the small set up he had on the floor where his cosmetics and mirrors were all spread out. Keith settled in front of the waist-high portable mirror like before, and Lance plopped down next to him, still swaddled in blankets and carrying his half-drunk hot chocolate.

"You sound weirdly excited though," Keith said. He picked up his foam wedge and began dabbing the area under his eyes. He felt extremely self-conscious and tried to will away the persistent blush on his neck as Lance's blue eyes watched him.

"I guess so. I've watched Nyma - um." Lance froze for a moment, seeming to have had forgotten the shit he'd gone through, before clearing his throat and powering through. "I've watched her get ready in the morning and it's always been really cool to watch." He looked at his hands.

A surge of jealousy and irritation rose like a black cloud in Keith's chest. What Keith wouldn't give for Lance to watch him get ready in the mornings, for being able to  _ be  _ himself around someone who loved him for who he was. Nyma was just going to throw all that away? Nyma was a complete douchebag whom Lance was still unfortunately focused on and enchanted by, judging by the watery slouch in his posture and his hung head. Keith suddenly felt a burning desire to distract Lance, to help him move on, to be better to Lance than anyone could ever be.

"Then watch me," said Keith, a little more fiercely than was probably necessary.  _ Watch  _ me, he thought desperately.  _ Watch me and forget about her. _

Lance looked up.

For the next half hour, they sat in silence as Keith went over his face meticulously, putting more care into his movements than he normally would and being extremely aware of his crush sitting just a few feet away, watching. He put a galaxy-bruise on his other eye lid and hid it behind silver glitter and massive false lashes. He dabbed on pink blush following the hollow of his cheeks, and painted his lips a deep red, plumping them with a coat of clear gloss.

(Occasionally, he would stick out his lips in a soft kiss and flutter his lashes a little more than usual, just to put on a show for Lance, but no one had to know that.)

Once he was satisfied, he turned to Lance.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Something soft and dreamy hung from Lance's face. "That was amazing, Keith. You're really an artist."

Keith shrugged and looked away, pleased and embarrassed.

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Oh…" Keith looked at the ceiling. "Maybe five years? It's been a while. I watch youtube videos and sometimes Allura gives me advice."

"Thanks for letting me see."

"Yeah. No - uh, no problem."

Lance glanced out at the sky through the window behind Keith. "You usually do this late at night? You just wear it for a few hours and then go to bed?" He asked, looking puzzled, as though he couldn't believe Keith would just do this on his own time and then not let anybody see.

"Yeah, I guess? I'm not really into showing this to the world, or anything. It's just for myself. It makes me happy," he said, picking up the pencils and brushes and putting them away. "Sometimes I might wear a - a wig, or a dress, or something, you know…" he trailed off, flushing. He hadn't meant to give so much away about how far his little hobby went.

"Can I see?" Lance asked softly.

Keith looked up at him. "Wow. Demanding today, aren't you?"

Lance blushed and his eyes widened. "Sorry, you don't have to -"

Keith chuckled and shook his head. He debated it, then came to a decision. "All right. Just stay here for a moment."

He went to his bedroom to the tiny locked chest in his closet that he'd bought to store a couple of wigs and the few dresses he'd gotten for when he felt brave enough and in the mood to wear them. He picked the black wig with long, wavy tresses and a thick fringe, and a slinky red dress that was on the conservative side when it came to skin exposure, and ended just above his knees in a slight flare. Keith ran a brush quickly through the wig after he put it on and evaluated his appearance in the bathroom mirror. He made a face at the stubbly leg hair - he hadn't shaved for a few days - but he had a feeling Lance wouldn't care. Besides, he could just sit down quickly and cover it up with the hem of his dress.

Once he felt ready, Keith stepped out. He suddenly felt shy when he entered the living room and saw Lance, twiddling his thumbs on the floor. He cleared his throat.

When Lance's gaze landed on him, the boy's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

Keith blushed.

Lance scrambled up from the floor and shuffled towards him, eyes sparkling. "Damn," Lance breathed.

"Thanks."

"No, seriously. If you'd been in my high school, you'd be the most popular kid in the whole district. There probably would've been fights to see who could ask you out to prom. Valentine's day would've been  _ hell _ ."

Keith snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."

"No. You look  _ really  _ good," Lance repeated firmly. "Really good."

"Yeah, ok," said Keith, feeling shy again, and began playing with a locket of hair that had tumbled over his chest. He cleared his throat. "Um. Yeah. So. I'm gonna go change now -"

"But you just put those on - " Lance protested, reaching to take the lock of hair away from Keith. Keith let him, and watched with a thumping heart and a held breath as Lance slid his fingers along the hair with something akin to gentle reverence, and brought it close to his face, as though to kiss it.

Something in the air changed.

It felt, charged, now, charged with something that had only lurked in the shadows of Keith's mind until now. His cheeks felt too hot, and he could feel it, a dangerous tightness coiling in his gut. Lance's eyes were too blue, he was too close.

Too, too close.

Any second now, and their lips could touch.

It felt wrong.

Keith pushed him away, averting his eyes. He tried to hide the burning want in his face with the long tresses of his wig, and hugged himself close, as though it could somehow contain all that he was feeling.

"Lance," he said quietly. Keith peeked up, and saw Lance's eyes wide as saucers, confusion etched in every inch of his skin. "We can't. You just broke up with someone. You're still hurting and this isn't… I can't. I won't."

God, that hurt to say.

"I'm sorry," Lance finally said. "I'm so sorry. You're right. I'm just… I'll go now."

Keith nodded. "Yeah," he managed to croak.

Lance retrieved his jacket and soppy clothes hanging on the rack by the door. "Thanks for everything, though, Keith" Lance said, before leaving the apartment.

Keith sank to his knees and - he didn't quite cry, but he buried his face into his hands and sat like that for a very long time.

 


	5. v.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i've said before, i don't drop fics, ever. it just takes me a while sometimes, but i will always finish wips. (currently doing more in the modaozushi fandom - anybody read the novel/watched the anime yet?? It's insanely good and canon gay i highly recc it omg. If u do get into, pls talk to me about it)
> 
> typed this at 2am. Forgive my mistakes OTL i'll prob read it over when i'm more alive and edit the grammar later. Enjoy! Story's pretty much done. I may or may not add an extra, but that's tbd. 
> 
> Thank you all for staying with me on this!!!

_Six months later_

 

"--Happy birthday dear Huuunk! Happy birthday to youuu!"

Cheers erupted around the table, and a fresh round of drinks were served. Hunk picked up the knife and began segmenting the cake with expert hands.

"Mmm vanilla. Sweet, innocent, soft… just like our birthday boy," Lance said, holding his cocktail up in the air. Hunk scoffed and rolled his eyes, but a smile was twitching on his lips. Lance beamed. He felt warm and woozy, and on some vague level understood that he was starting to get drunk. He stared at the blue drink in his hand, swirling like a galaxy, and then took another sip.

"I think you should probably stop soon," Keith chuckled, nudging him with an elbow. Keith looked sober and pretty as ever - his three bellinis had absolutely no effect on him. But perhaps there was a slight flush to his cheeks that wasn't there before? Or maybe it was make-up? Lance couldn't tell.

"Maybe you should drink more," Lance demanded.

Keith shook his head. "I've got work tomorrow."

"Oh yeah! You got any new looks you wanna tr--"

Keith kicked him so hard under the table Lance saw stars. Or perhaps it was from the galaxy drink he was having? He wasn't so sure about a lot of things anymore. Whatever.

Just then, Hunk and Pidge began handing out pieces of the cake. He waited impatiently for Hunk to take the first bite, and then he shoved his entire face into the piece, figuratively speaking.

"It's probably time to head back soon," Pidge said, making a face. "At least, someone should."

"I've got work tomorrow morning," Keith said again. "I should head back too. I can take him with me and drop him off." He put his bellini down and leaned back to gather his coat.

"What about your cake?" Hunk asked, seeming genuinely astonished anyone could possibly skip cake.

Lance was not only astonished, but offended that Keith could want to go home before he had cake. Determined to show him the error of his ways, Lance stuck two of his fingers into the mound of vanilla icing on his plate and held it out to Keith, brushing the cream onto Keith's lips, before sticking the rest of it into his own mouth.

"Try it!" Lance insisted around a mouthful of sweet cream. He licked his fingers and closed his eyes dramatically. "So good, Keith. Stay for a bit longer."

Through the haze of his drunkenness, Lance finally noticed that the table had gone silent. Everybody was staring - not at him, but at Keith. Lance followed their line of gaze and saw that Keith was staring at him, as red as a tomato, and a shell-shocked expression was frozen on his face.

"Yo… did all three bellinis kick in at once?" Lance asked, squinting and leaning closer. He was still licking at his fingers for residual cream.

Keith was somehow shaken out of his stupor and grabbed Lance by the arm, dragging him out of the booth. "All right. We. Are going home. Now."

Lance whined, but Keith barreled out of there like a bull on a mission, and Lane felt too drunk to do anything about it.

"Do you, like, have some kind of heat superpower?" Lance slurred. He didn't really know what he was saying anymore. "God your hands are so warm."

Keith only grunted.

The next little while was a blur for Lance. He remembered being thrown into shotgun, Keith's arms brushing lightly over his chest as his seatbelt was done. He remembered asking, "You had three bellinis… you can still drive?" while lights red and green flashed around his vision, and Keith's deep voice washing over him in reply, and it sounded exasperated and annoyed. "I swear you had three," he remembered himself repeating for the rest of the ride, in between humming some ridiculous pop songs.

The air was cold at night when he wobbled out of the car. He felt his senses clear a little bit during the short trip from the car to Keith's apartment, the sting of the cold and long walk drilling through the haze of alcohol.

"Am I spending the night at your place?" Lance asked, smiling.

Keith's hand paused for a moment, before he turned the knob and the two of them entered the apartment. There was a soft clearing of throa " I don't know where you live, and you're a little too drunk to be safe on your own. You don't have the best judgment right now."

"Suh… safe? I can de-decision. I'm not _that_ drunk," he said contentiously, feeling weirdly upset. He hiccupped.

Keith sighed. "Yeah, ok," he acquiesced. "Let's just, uh, get changed and get ready for bed. Drink some water first. You're going to die tomorrow morning but you should at least survive the night."

"Mm… thoughtful," Lance slurred.

The next while was a flurry of movements, sharp furniture edges, clothes that seemed to have too many arm holes yet also not enough arm holes, and some close calls between his head and the carpeted floor. When he finally felt comfortable again, he saw that he was lying on bedsheets that smelled awfully familiar, like warm bread and cologne and something sweet that reminded him of affection.

There was a movement near the edge of the bed, and Lance struck out an arm to see what it was.

He felt warm skin, with soft ridges of veins running over it. He squeezed.

"Lance?" He heard Keith's voice.

"Are you leaving? Don't leave," he said, blinking blearily at the figure.

A sigh. "I'll just be in the living room. You need to go to sleep."

"No, no. I -" All of a sudden, Lance felt urgent, anxious. He needed to say something, anything, to keep Keith beside him right now. Being alone, seeing Keith leave after taking care of him so patiently, seemed suddenly unbearable.

So Lance squeezed again. "No! Don't leave. I have something to tell you."

'All right. What?" Keith sounded exasperated, but still he pulled up a chair beside him and sat down, calming Lance somewhat.

Lance was silent for a moment, trying to find his words. "I've been - I've been thinking about Nyma…" he began.

Instantly, he knew that was the wrong way to start. Something in Keith's expression twitched, and while Lance was still too drunk to read it, he could still tell it wasn't a positive reaction.

"You're not thinking about going back to her, are you?" Keith bit out, sounding a lot more accusing and aggressive than Lance thought was warranted.

Lance made a face. "Give me more credit, of course not," he said. Keith's shoulders slumped. "I'm just… it's been really long, and… Keith, I think I'm in love with someone again. Like, I wasn't sure at first, I thought it was just me rebounding, but I don't think it is. God, I like this person a lot. So so much. And I just wanted to ask you if… Keith?"

While his heart was pounding during his confession and his head was stuffed with cotton from the alcohol, Lance only just noticed that Keith had completely frozen. He was so still - he didn't even look like he was breathing. He was looking at the ground, his bangs covering his eyes so that Lance couldn't tell at all what sort of expression he had. His knuckles were white where they were gripping his knees.

"Hey…?" Lance asked, hesitantly.

Abruptly, Keith stood up and began marching out of the room.

Lance was shocked sober enough to leap out of bed to follow him. Being lanky had its benefits - Lance caught up in two steps and had secured his arm in a firm grip, despite Keith trying to break free.

"Hey!" Lance exclaimed. "What's wrong with you? I was pouring my heart out!" His heart was thudding and his face was red. The frustration he felt from being interrupted from the confession that had been eating him for _months_ \- by the _person himself_ no less - was unreal. The adrenaline was nearly painful. All the haze from the drinks earlier was nearly gone.

"…let me go," Keith whispered, so quietly Lance had to strain his ears.

"Not until you tell me what's gotten into you," Lance asked. He was completely baffled. "What's gotten into you?"

Keith simply shook his head vigorously.

Desperate to finish his confession but unable to - he knew somehow that figuring out the reason for Keith's reaction was crucial to determining whether his confession would be welcomed or not - Lance shook the arm he was holding and said more strongly, "Tell me! What was I gonna say? _What's gotten into y--_ "

"I can't do this anymore!" Keith suddenly yelled. He turned around, and Lance was shocked, once again, this time seeing that Keith's eyes were red and wet. His expression was so sorrowful Lance felt as though he wanted to cry with him.

"Do what…?"

"Just-!" Keith exclaimed, throwing his arms in to the air. Lance had already let him go at this point, shocked into momentary paralysis. "Just stop! Stop telling me about your dates! The girls you like. The girls you dated." His voice grew thick, and his tears began to fall. "Your stupid love troubles. Do you have any idea how I feel, constantly listening  to what I can't have? Do you have any idea to be standing right in front of…"

Keith gasped, and his hand flew over his mouth. His eyes were wide, terrified, as he stared at Lance.

Before Lance could recover, Keith spun on his heels and fled the room.

A distant slamming of a door jolted Lance out of his stupor. He ran out of the room and saw the bathroom door in the corner closed, locked, with light streaming out from the slit beneath the door.

Lance tried turning the doorknob anyways, shaking the door a bit for good measure.

"G-go away," came a squeezed voice inside. "I-I-I'm sorry for what I said. I won't - you can leave if you want to -"

"You never listened to what I was saying on the bed!" Lance exclaimed.

There were a few sniffles behind the door, but nothing else came forth as Keith waited for Lance to continue.

Lance took a deep breath. "Keith. I was… the person that I fell in love with -"

"Lance, plea-"

"Let me finish!" Lance all but roared. "Just let me finish, will you?"

A shaky intake of breath.

"Let me finish. The person that I fell in love with… is you, Keith. I fell in love with you. I think I liked you long before I broke up with Nyma - I just never realized it, because I'd never fallen in love with a dude before. I thought you were just… I thought I was considering you a really good friend. But I started thinking about you a little too much and I started to miss you every time we weren't together and I… I…"

The door swished open, and Keith stood on the other side, eyes wide and full of disbelief as they stared at Lance.

"…I wanted to ask you out," Lance finished lamely.

There were a few seconds of silence. Lance tried not to fidget as he teetered on the edge of a mental cliff.

"…I thought you only liked girls?" Keith whispered, voice still thick.

"I guess not," Lance answered with a tentative smile.

Keith took a step forward, but Lance was already two steps in front of him, picking him up in the tightest embrace he could give, cheek  and mouth pressed again Keith's soft, downy hair.

"I've been wanting to do this for so long," Lance murmured.

Keith let out a choked sob and returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around Lance even more tightly.

"This isn't a joke?" Keith asked.

"No," Lance said, and proceeded to kiss all of his tears away.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please visit me as [thacmis on tumblr](http://www.thacmis.tumblr.com) I do lots of art
> 
> And please leave a comment; let me know what you think!! Thanks for reading!


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